Joining
by Child of Loki
Summary: Ch 20.5 of 'Cute Girls With Guns.' A smutty excerpt taking place between chapters 20 and 21 of that fic. "She can see it in his eyes even before the words are on his lips. And how she wants it, wants him..."


**Disclaimer: I do not own _NCIS: LA_ or its characters... (which is probably a good thing for all concerned.)**

**Author's Note: This is an excerpt from **_**Cute Girls With Guns**_**, taking place between chapters 20 and 21. If you'd like the context for the smut, considering checking the story out. If you're only interested in some Nell/Callen sexy times, or have been following along with the aforementioned fic, by all means read on…**

**WARNING: SMUT! aka. CONTAINS ADULT SITUATIONS NOT SUITABLE FOR YOUNGER AUDIENCES.**

* * *

G Callen smiles, stares straight into those big, beautiful hazel eyes, and kisses Nell Jones softly but soundly on the mouth.

_Show me, s_he said. _Show me_.

Oh, honey, does he ever plan on demonstrating exactly what it is to make love to her. To make her understand with perfect, undeniably clarity that it is _not_ just sex for him. Not with her. Not ever with her.

The lovely little thing is already making desperate whimpering noises in the back of her throat as she deepens the kiss and he responds in kind, feeling her fervency and need as her hips begin to rock in his lap, her body pressing and grinding against his in the naive sort of primal urgency of the young. Well, in well-aged adults, as well... in anyone, really, with a mind towards physical pleasure and sexual fulfillment. But that's not what he's after (not only, anyway). That's not what she's asked for, whether she knows it or not. And so he gently breaks off the heated embrace, steadies her hips, slides his hands up to her waist and lifts her, setting her on her feet before where he sits on the edge of the bed.

He joins her, standing, looking down into her flushed face and beautiful, _beautiful _eyes. So expressive. So big. And open. And honest. He reaches out and delicately caresses her flushed cheek.

"May I undress you?" he asks quietly, knowing by the brief flit of confusion on her face that no one before has actually asked for her permission in such circumstances. And that's one small demonstration of the difference between sex and making love. With her whispered 'yes', he begins to unwrap her like the gift he never knew he wanted but always hoped someone would care enough, notice and cherish him enough to bestow.

There's something so much more intimate and sensual about disrobing a woman in a dress. His hands sliding the fastener down her back, running along the gentle curve of her spine, from rounded shoulder to trim waist and the concavity just above the swell of buttocks. Then sweeping the fabric off her shoulders, his palms smoothing over tendons and muscles, his thumbs teasing her collarbones. And finally, watching the dress fall, skimming over and momentarily clinging to breast and hip as it finally pools at her feet. He doesn't allow himself the time to admire her in her bra and panties, afraid it will induce him into action he does not yet wish to take, not before he's even undressed her fully. He wants her naked, exposed and completely at ease with him. Wants her to be impatient for him, yet entirely satisfied and content with his touch alone. Wants her to see and feel his unadulterated affection in every kiss and caress. And so he steps in close, places his hands on her neck, his fingers burying in the hair at the nape, his thumbs tracing her jaw line as he leans in and she angles her face up towards him, the tendons tensing and stretching under her skin beneath his palms as she strains for the kiss that his posture intimates but he does not deliver. Instead, his hands slide down her back, find the clasp of her bra and unhook it. With a smile, he steps back and, peeling the garment off from her, tosses it aside.

He sits on the edge of the bed once more, and reaches for Nell, who seems temporarily of a mind to resist for being teased. But she doesn't hold it against him long. How can she, after all, when she knows it's his nature, as well as her own? It's not meant to establish dominance or control, but simply to make her smile, which she does, her eyes gleaming in playful amusement, before he breaks the contact to nuzzle the skin between her breasts, breasts as round and succulent as he's ever fantasized. He can't resist the pull of them entirely, and latches his ravenous mouth upon first one than the other. They're the perfect plumpness, more than a mouthful and just an ample handful. He suckles and then tenderly bites at each nipple, until it's a hard, puckered nub between his teeth, which he eagerly flicks his tongue over, pinching and rolling its neglected counterpart between calloused fingers until she's making those throaty whimpers once more, her body arching towards him, her fingernails digging into his scalp.

Finally, he manages to pull himself away. There's not enough affection in his ravishing her breasts like that. Admiration and delight, and stimulation for her, as well as arousal for him, but not the tender intimacy he wishes to show her. He looks up to find her eyelashes fluttering as she opens her gorgeous hazel eyes and seeks him out. She's still breathing hard, but calming from the intense onslaught to her breasts. He moves his hands to divest her of her panties, and she obliging steps out of them, exposing the thick thatch of auburn curls he admittedly has daydreamed about seeing nestled against the base of his engorged shaft as he buries himself impossibly deep inside her inviting flesh. He marshals his baser instincts, because she means more to him than that moment of blinding ecstasy, of carnal satiation, and rises to scoop her off her feet and lay her on the bed. She clings to him until he gives her a lingering kiss on the lips, which seems to buy his temporary freedom to strip his own clothes off quickly. He would very much enjoy being undressed by Nell, perhaps _next time _(he sure as hell hopes there will be many more times), but for now, he's the one _showing her_. Besides, he's not so sure she wouldn't be too eager for the main event. And he wants to take his time _loving _her. So he mounts the bed in as naked a state as the young woman currently reclining upon the mattress, and lies down next to her, turning on his side to face her. She mirrors the action, as if they're two fully clothed persons lying on a picnic blanket in a park on a lazy afternoon. He just stares into her eyes for a while, and she returns the penetrating gaze in all of its open honesty. They say people can fall in love by just gazing into each other's eyes. But what happens when you're already there? He reaches out and caresses her jaw with his fingertips. She shimmies closer to him, places a delicate but strong hand on the back of his neck and pulls him in for a kiss. He cups her face in both hands as he kisses her until his fingers itch to touch her and his free hand not trapped between her head and the hard pillow begins to explore its way down her body, over her shoulder, side and hip, thigh, back up her side, cupping a breast, sliding down her stomach, tracing the rough raised scar before burying fingers in the thick, soft curls between her thighs, probing, finding just the spot he's looking for...

Nell gasps against his mouth as he touches her, and he uses the natural break to pull back slightly so he can study her face, her _expressive_ eyes as he teases the precious bundle of nerves he's discovered. After the initial jolting surprise of the sensation, she notices his watching of her, and locks eyes with him as he strokes her slowly, firmly, between the thighs. She's not a passive lover, however. And he would never expect that of her, despite her following his lead thus far. Her own small, strong fingers have begun exploring his body, flitting up and down his chest and stomach, playing with his nipples, tracing his scars, sometimes biting into his skin slightly with their nails. Her grip finds him, encircles him and he's momentarily afraid that she's going to be able to undo him before he's done with her... and he's not done with her yet, not by a long shot. But he's already got her worked up to a good state of soft, blissful arousal. He just needs to-

She gasps again, sharply, her hands fly to grip his bicep and shoulder. Her noises fascinate him, light little hiccupping cries as she breathes in and soft moans as she breathes out. Her body is moving subconsciously sinuously, arching into his touch, in rhythm with it. It's absolutely beautiful and perfect. Perfect but for one thing. Her head is tossed back and her eyes are closed.

"Nell," he says quietly, knowing he's driven her to the far reaches of reality and sanity, but also knowing she'll hear him. "Look at me. Please. I want to see you come."

Her eyes, pupils dilated large and black in their small ring of hazel iris open and find his, stare into them even as they fill with pure lustful ecstasy, and the orgasm wracks her body as she cries out and her fingernails dig into his skin. It's the most beautiful vision he's ever laid eyes upon, undeniably ever will. He watches her come down from the orgasmic high, studying the way her flushed skin seems to radiate warmth and pleasure and contentment, proving that sexual afterglow is indeed a physical as well as emotional state. And it belongs to _him_. Her pleasure, her satisfaction, her affection... all _his_. Yet, as he continues to stare into her, it becomes not quite enough. His body yearns to be closer to her, to feel her flesh gripping him snugly as well as trembling under his touch. But it's also his soul that wants more, wants to be so close to her that he bleeds into her, and she him, so that the boundaries evaporate, the edges defining them as separate beings blur until he no longer knows which thoughts and feelings are his own, and which are hers.

"Yes," she says, her voice breathy but confident, her eyes never wavering from his, plucking the question straight from his soul and replying without his ever uttering a word. They smile at one another before he leans in to kiss her, a hand sliding down the naked curve of her side, cupping the buttock that sports a certain bit of ink (that he fully intends to investigate further at a later time) and giving her an admiring squeeze before skimming the back of her thigh and hooking behind her knee. He guides her leg to drape over his hip, pulling her tighter to him, loving the feel of the silky skin of her calf sliding against the small of his back and bare ass. And then taking his almost painfully aroused cock in hand, he finds her, pressing against the slick and swollen flesh, so warm and inviting he now undeniably aches for her, to take her, to be buried and consumed so fully by her that the rest of the world fades away entirely.

A sentiment whole-heartedly returned by the desperate pleading edge in her voice as she stares into him with those alluring, devastating, gorgeously expressive big eyes of hers, and whispers, "Yes, please, G."

He obliges, wanting to slide gently into her, but finding he has to grip her hip and force himself into the extremely wet yet impossibly tight flesh of her. The penetration is shallow, and he forces himself to pause, to let her body adjust and stretch, but more importantly to revel in the bliss of being inside of Nell Jones. And her eyes never leaving his all the while, even as he begins to rock his hips in a slow undulation that creates the most exquisite, torturous friction.

* * *

She can see it in his eyes even before the words are on his lips. And how she wants it, wants _him_ inside of her, deep and hard, quaking with lustful need even as he restrains himself in unadulterated affection, and all the while staring_ into _her with those magnificent blue eyes of his. He's already penetrated her heart with those eyes, and she's desperate for his body to seal the bond.

"Yes," she says and does not have to clarify. He smiles and kisses her, touches her with those _hands_ of his, those wonderful, rough and soft, gentle and firm, hands of his, pulls her closer, hooking her leg over his hip and oh! she can feel him pressing against her, the anticipation making her want to scream. She means to be encouraging, but she's pretty certain she simply begs. The torture is short-lived however, for the pressure against the swollen, sensitive flesh between her thighs increases a hundred fold and he's pushing into her. It's frustratingly slow, but she can tell he's trying to be gentle, that she's a little too tight for him. She tries to relax, and the hand that's cupped her face this entire time begins to caress her, to soothe her, his thumb making small circles on her cheek, all the while his other hand takes firm hold of her hip and he pushes more forcefully into her, until he pauses and she can feel her body stretching to accommodate him. And then he's moving, slowly, determinedly, building a heat that blossoms low in her belly, but that also tightens it with need. It's beautiful, but also torturous, the way he's filling her, stirring her, and all the while, staring into her with those unfathomably gorgeous blue eyes. They're like staring into the heart of the universe, knee-melting, stomach-dropping, soul-cowering beauty, beyond the comprehension of her tiny mind, yet the fulfillment of her very soul. And he's burning her up. Too much, yet not enough. Not enough.

And she finds the need reflected back to her in his eyes, gives voice to the desire so profound it's an ache.

"Deeper."

His mouth is on hers, searing, his tongue thrusting into her even as he pulls out of her and rolls them so she's on her back and his weight presses her deliciously into the mattress. He pushes himself up off from her, and the momentary loss of his mouth, as well as his cock, the cool air flooding the narrow space between their bodies devastates her, but she spreads her legs in eager invitation and he sinks his hips between them, the penetration a long, deep, unrelenting thrust that makes her cry out with mingled pleasure and pain. She only now realizes how shallow his previous thrusts were, as he settles much more deeply inside of her resistant flesh. He's kissing her face and neck as she attempts to control her breathing. He doesn't pull out of her, though, instead waiting for her, whispering into her ear.

"Are you okay?"

She takes a couple deep breaths through her nose, willing her uncooperative body to relax, relent. This is happening, whether or not her vagina thinks it pleasant at this moment, the rest of her does, wants this, wants him so badly that the ache of need combats the bite of pain.

"Yes," she says, opening her eyes to gaze into his, knowing he won't continue, won't give her what she needs, what they both want so badly they might go insane if they don't get it, not if he's not absolutely certain of her.

"Are you sure?" he asks, amazing her at his restraint. She can see the lust in his eyes, yet his features are soft with concern, his manner comforting rather than urgent as he strokes her face with one hand. As if in response, she wraps her legs around him in a fierce hold, informing him she won't let him go even if he tries to remove himself from her body.

"I. Want. You." Her voice feels like gravel, half-growl as it emerges from her throat, and Callen groans in response, kissing her soundly before pulling nearly all the way out of her and plunging back in, swift and sharp, making her cry out again. He fills her, fills her in a way no one has before, and she has to fight the tears that threaten to spill down her cheeks, tears of exquisite joy, for she's never felt as happy, despite the protests of her body as it's pushed beyond its limits by the most amazing lover she's ever had, ever will have.

* * *

"I. Want. You."

The tone in Nell's voice, the flash of pure lust in her eyes utterly destroys his tenuous self control. He wanted to be tender, affectionate, to show her love. But sometimes love is fierce, painfully intense, can drive you mad and make your heart, and even body, ache. And he gives into it, wholly, thrusting into her with unreserved vigor.

"You're so tight," he says breathlessly into her neck, as he feels the sweat run down between his shoulder blades. Pounding her relentlessly takes an awful lot of effort, her insides so firm and resistant, even though she's as slick as an oil spill. He withdraws almost completely from her body and then thrusts into her with a resolute jerk of his hips, forcing his throbbing member deeper into her with every stroke. Again. And again. And _again_. He feels parts of her give under the onslaught, but her body still holds him as tightly as ever, as tightly as she hugged him after saving his life, more tightly than any other woman's body has ever embraced him. Really, there is no comparison. Nell is unlike any other woman. She is the _only_ woman. Ever.

Thinking about her, every memory of her flooding him, further saturating the moment with her, adding layer after layer onto the encompassing presence of her that's overwhelming his senses... He nearly comes undone, but for the resolve to make this moment last. It's too wonderful to let go of so easily. Her warm, damp, smooth skin against his, her lush heat squeezing him unbearably snugly, her legs wrapped around his waist holding him fast, her delicate, strong hands clutching at his arms and shoulders, her fingernails biting into his flesh as she cries out, throaty moans tearing from within her as he thrusts into her so deeply he fears -but also revels in the idea- that he's bruising her, rending her, marking her in the most intimate of places.

Somehow she manages to speak, breathless and broken, interspersed with cries that border on screams.

"G, I-I.. _unh_. I need you to... to... _oh! _look at me."

He somehow obliges, lifting his head from where he's buried his face against her fragrant neck, without faltering the rhythm of his hips for a moment. Her eyes are beautiful, more beautiful than he can quite withstand. Staring into them _does_ make him falter, hesitate. He could lose himself in the depths of those eyes, forever, completely, and willingly. The brief lull in the sweet, sweet friction burning them up seems to allow Nell to compose herself. She takes his face in her hands, and stares him down, issuing orders he can not refuse even if he were inclined to.

"I want you to come inside of me, deep and fully. Give me your pleasure. Surrender it to me."

She runs her hands down his neck over his shoulders, along his spine as she begins to thrust her hips up into him, taking him further inside herself, gasping and then moaning softly as she increases the pace and force of her upward thrusts. He doesn't move for a few moments, simply remaining in amazed, adoring awe of her, as she takes the lead, takes him, forces him to give of himself as he demanded of her when he made her climax with his touch, drew out her soul.

"Give it to me," she moans, and it is the single most erotic sound ever produced in the entire history of the universe. "Surrender. To. Me."

He growls, meets her upward thrust with a downward plunge of his own hips, his balls smacking her ass as the entirety of his shaft finally sheaths itself in her flesh. Nell really screams this time, without even an iota of reserve, as he ravages her with ferocious, pounding thrusts. But she doesn't even blink, instead captivating him with her wide open eyes. He feels exposed as a raw nerve, every single one of his carefully constructed barriers evaporating as he's pulled into Nell Jones' hazel eyes, her soul claiming his as its own.

He loves her. Loves her. _Loves her._

"G!" She screams his name, her body clenching around him, her inner muscles squeezing him as tightly as a vice as he surrenders the moment of pure, heart-stopping, transcendent ecstasy to Nell. The pleasure washes through him like a tidal wave, rushing into her, accompanying the hot fluid of his release that fills her belly, and pulls a feeling of pure, bone-melting contentment in its wake. He continues to stare into her eyes, which are now sparkling, glassy and dilated black with pleasure, as his hips thrust convulsively a few more times, and then she begins to rock her own hips gently, cradling him, as their bodies regain control of themselves and the peak of the orgasmic high ebbs.

Finally, he breaks the eye contact when he leans in to kiss her slow and languorously on the mouth. She returns the drunken sort of embrace with equal depth of feeling despite the sloppy, dull intensity of it. It's fucking perfect. Just like her.

She's still moaning deep in her throat when he finally collapses atop her, allowing himself a few moments of boneless bliss with his weight lying entirely on top of the beautiful petite body, slick with sweat, soft with post-orgasmic muscle atrophy. He buries his face in her hair, smells the glorious scent of her body, and _his_, of lust and sex. He smiles, breathing in the heady aroma. Apparently, his odor was quite compatible with the perfume of her. It's wonderful, makes him groan with the sensory satisfaction of it, like biting into a warm, gooey chocolate chip cookie, or that first moment sinking his aching arousal deep between Nell's thighs, finding home.

But he's probably crushed her for long enough, though she hasn't protested. Indeed, she's still breathing heavily through her nose, her body attempting to regain its equilibrium after suffering 'the little death', the only sound emerging from her vocal chords are low, whimpering moans as residual jolts of pleasure strike her nerves. He can feel the small, short twitches of various muscles in her body, lying pressed so intimately beneath him as she is. She moans more loudly, a satisfied noise, like she were biting into a warm, gooey chocolate chip cookie herself, when he kisses her neck.

Surprisingly, she still hasn't shoved him off from her, issued no complaint, and in fact continues to hold him flush to her with her legs wrapped about his waist, her arms locked around his neck as she slowly strokes her fingers from the close-cropped hair covering his head down his spine and back up. And it's beyond intriguing to him, to remain so entangled with her afterward. Release has always been the primary goal in his sexual encounters, even with the very few women he's 'loved', and they always parted from the intimate position directly afterward, to rearrange into a more comfortable situation to cuddle or sleep. Or for the past decade or so, he (or she) would simply leave. Apparently, Nell's the one showing him how to make love, that it doesn't end with climax, doesn't have to immediately dissipate into a more remote closeness.

He's still buried deeply inside of her, and he's not sure if it's pleasant or uncomfortable. Maybe just somewhere in between. He can feel her insides, warm and snug, quivering gently around his spent flesh, and if he blocks out all of the background hum of his own body, can feel the rhythm of her heart from within her belly. He sort of dreads the moment when he has to pull out of her. It is inevitable. He can't remain inside of her forever, _with _her always. God, how he wishes never to be apart from Nell Jones. She has become the most important thing in his life, is his home, his heart, his entire world.

"Nell," he says quietly, finally levering part of his weight off from her so he can look down into her face.

"Mmm..." she says sleepily, the climactic high finally dwindling enough that exhaustion seems to have caught up with her.

He cups her cheek with one hand, and she blindly turns into it, nuzzling his calloused flesh, kissing his palm. _Oh_. He _has_ to do it now.

"I know it's sort of a taboo to do it the first time directly after being intimate, but I have to," he says, and she turns to look up at him, eyes wide and curious.

"I _love _you, Nell Jones."

She smiles, radiant with happiness that suffuses him as well.

"Well, that settles that," she says. "I've officially fallen in love with you, G Callen. Completely and unconditionally."

He kisses her again, an embrace he knows (and rejoices in the fact) that is only one of what will be many, many more.

* * *

**A/N: And there's the M-Rated smut. If you just dropped in on this fic because it promised some Nell/Callen sex scenes, consider checking out the rest of the story on how they got to this point, in **_**Cute Girls With Guns**_**. If you've been following along the entire time, look out for the next installment very soon. Likely just one more chapter and an epilogue to wrap it up.**


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